


A Prince and his Knight

by FallingNarwhals



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dragons and such, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Knight Keith (Voltron), M/M, Medieval magic, Polynesian Hunk (Voltron), Prince Hunk, References to Polynesian Religion & Lore, Rouge Pidge, Trans Keith (Voltron), knight lance, story based off of fanart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingNarwhals/pseuds/FallingNarwhals
Summary: Their love was star crossed, Keith knew. But when the Earth pauses to take a breath, and when everyone's eyes were flowered, it could exist.Prince Hunakai is a prince, one with kind eyes and soft hands. One that listened to his people with interest and ruled alongside his mothers.Keith is a knight barely a year out of training, of which has slayed dragons and tricked mages with the help of his Gift.A love like their own, especially when Prince Hunakai is engaged to another soul, is not to exist. They both knew long term that it will fall apart.But for now they will hold each other as the world goes on.(Short stories in the lives of a Prince and his Knight.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [based off of this art by tumblr user shriika](shriika.tumblr.com/post/163272206521/a-prince-and-his-knight)

A thin gold bracelet hidden underneath the sleeve of his burlap was cool against his hot skin, and he squinted his eyes though his helmet at the guest.

He had white hair despite his age, and an air about him that made Keith want to run him down with his sword. Hunk, only a few feet away, looked composed to the untrained eye. But Keith knew this man at his weakest and lowest, and caught the delicate tapping of his fingers and the way his lover's eyes crinkled angrily.

Keith knew whispers of the man from the servants who worked in the castle and the mice in the walls. This man was rich beyond measure, but bargained with lives and witchcraft.

Well, everyone dabbled in witchcraft at their lowest. But this man was beyond luck charms and resilience potions.

This man could raise from the dead.

He caught enough of the conversation to learn his name, and even then it sent shivers down his back.

Lotor.

Prince Lotor of the Galra Kingdom.

He remembered the kingdom, how the fields of wheat were tipped with black and the houses glowed with a comforting golden light. His mother, hair long and silky, humming a song that he forgotten the words to, her warm breath luring him to sleep.

"The queens of Nefara," the man bowed. "I have traveled a long way and my women and I wish to spend the night."

"And you didn't think of the Inn by the river?" Hunk asked before his mothers could respond. "I believe it is much more suitable to your interests."

Lotor bared his teeth in a crooked grin. "Spend the night with commoners and peasants while my women sleep with fleas? Not fit for royal blood."

"Peace, Prince Hunakai," Queen Leinani glared. Keith licked his lips under his helmet, and Hunk squirmed under his mother's gaze. "We extend our hospitality for one night and morning."

Lotor bowed again, hair drooping into his face. "Thank you, your majesties and highness."

And in the split second he stood up, Keith swore Lotor looked right into his eyes, and a flash of fear swept through him like an icy wind.

* * *

Thrice on the door, two minutes until the next patrol changed corners.

What Keith did every night wasn't against the rules necessarily, but rather frowned upon. Sneaking out of the quarters and into the Prince's bedroom between shifts in guards was rather suspicious.

But it was worth it to see his prince's face, unmasked by emotions and the faint candlelight making his eyes glitter like jewels.

He was hunched over his table, quill in hand and ink splattered across his hands, eyebrows creased in worry.

"You shan't work yourself up like this, my prince." Keith quietly padded across the room, bare feet on stone, and hands resting on his shoulders. "You are not immune to the effects of nightfall. You will sleep as well."

"I cannot, my knight," Hunk sighed, leaning back in the rather cruel chair. "For Lotor wishes to explore the kingdom, and my mothers do not believe that he is as wicked as he is."

"His women are warriors, but yet do not sleep, nor eat, nor blink," Keith told. "Their skin is of mildew and sag like the dead."

"All the more important I finish this before we sleep." Hunk scribbled, dipping the end of the feather in ink every few words. Keith studied the letters, hoping to make some sense of the characters he never learned.

When Hunk paused for the fifth time he took his prince's face in his hands. "The kingdom can wait a few hours without gossip. The messengers have gone to their homes anyhow. Please, come to bed."

He placed a soft kiss to his prince's nose, smiling when he relaxed under his hands. "You are right, my Keith."

He stood, nearly a unit taller than Keith and guided them to the bed, chaste kisses pressed to Keith's forehead as his fingers linked together behind his back, pressing them together.

Soft sheets against Keith's legs that he grown used to, warm hands on his hips that made his stomach turn over in knots and they laid together like that, in the dimmest of lights as the candle burnt to a stub. Exploring, rubbing, kissing, breathing. Together as one, next to each other like spoons on a table.

Floating.

Keith felt he could float away from the kingdoms when he was with his prince.

He falls asleep in his prince's arms, soft and warm and safe.

He wakes up tangled in them, Hunk's soft snores stuttering as he pressed a farewell kiss to his cheek, tucking the blankets under the feather mattress where they've fallen out, and racing back to the quarters before his duties began.

He pressed himself to a wall as a guard walked past, let out a soft sigh of relief when he was grabbed by the collar of his thin burlap shirt.

He let out a strangled cry, whipping around and becoming face to face with Prince Lotor.

"My highness!" he gasped, heart racing.

Lotor only had a soft grin. "You left Prince Hunakai alone. I wasn't even aware you had snuck in with him."

Keith felt his face flush. "No your highness, it is not like that. I am his personal guard."

"That left him before sunrise, not even in proper armor or weapon?" he tapped Keith's chest, and Keith flinched away. "Or perhaps you use a different weapon, hm?"

"No sir! He is engaged to Princess Shaye-"

"-and it will be more of a scandal if this was revealed."

Keith swallowed a lump in his throat. "What do you wish, sir?"

Lotor's teeth flashed. He bent down, arm locking onto Keith's. "A lock of hair from Prince Hunakai."

Keith nodded. "Very well."

He did not tell anyone of the meeting. But he knew what a lock of hair meant to a witch.

(Same thing that happened to Shiro, whose arm was blackened by the small magic he gained for such a price)

Keith won't let that happen to his prince.

It is his duty to lay down his life and comfort for his prince, and even without the love they shared he would die for him without a second thought.

They had the same hair color.

It was thick and curly in the back, and he brought the knife to the nape of his neck and sliced, the longest of locks hidden under layers.

Lotor wouldn't know the difference.

Keith would do anything for his prince.


	2. The quest for the Arusian Jewels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are not posted in chronological order.

The quest for the Arusian Crown Jewels was short in time but lasted lifetimes for Keith.

The Arusians were a neighborhooding kingdom at peace with Nefara, often trading in crops or information to the larger, even friendly participating in the biyearly Games with sword fights and fried fish.

A band of thieves had stolen the jewels and challenged anyone to take them back on the shores of the limestone beaches. It was a week's travel on horseback past many forests and small settlements, and for the most part was peaceful.

But Keith couldn't get over the slight thrill of traveling with Prince Hunakai.

He had bonded with his brother in arms, Lance, the most. They talked of the kingdoms and fit together quite well, and soon Hunakai had earned the nickname "Hunk" from Lance.

Keith thought it was rather rude but Hunakai embraced it and insisted on calling himself the name. Plus a band of young men traveling together would bring suspicion to the more gossip filled civilians, and calling a man by the prince's name would only draw more eyes.

Pidge, the former rouge turned noble, thought of it to be smart. They insisted on having notorious backstories for the travelers they've met, often changing their final location and lying through their teeth. It was nothing new to Keith, as he was from a closed Kingdom where secrets and lies lurked at every corner.

And he couldn't ignore the way Hunk looked at him. It was an interesting look, like how one might admire the valley on a daily walk. The same routine but yet some interest in it.

When he was a peasant girl he never got that look. When he realized he was a man and trained to become a knight he never got that look. He couldn't figure out what it meant.

Until Shiro, back ramrod stiff on his horse and shirt somehow clean despite the mud they've been sleeping in, smirked when he caught Keith staring at the back of Prince Hunk's head and teased him for having a fancy.

He never thought about having a partner. Knights often got wives later in life if they weren't killed, and he knew Shiro had a secret lover that worked as a merchant, but never gave thought to his own life.

And he stared at Prince Hunakai laughing at some joke Lance made, in commoner's clothing rather than his robes, long hair that Pidge braided that night before around the campfire, and thought that it could work.

And then he turned and  _smiled_  at Keith and Keith instantly changed his mind.

* * *

 

He took the second watch and was shoved awake by a half asleep Pidge at moonfall, told to watch out for the Fair Folk that lurked just out of sight, before they rolled over and instantly started snoring.

He sat up and leaned against the tree he had fallen asleep by, eyes drawn to the crackling embers of the fire. When sleep tugged at his conscience he stood, walked a few crisp laps around the camp, careful not to step on sleeping bodies.

"'Lo, Keith."

Hunakai, awake in his bedroll and soft smile alit by the dying fire, regarded the knight with that interested look that Keith still couldn't understand.

"My prince," he replied. "What has you up at this hour?"

"Pidge awoke me. I am but a light sleeper."

"My apologies, I'm sure they had no intent to." Keith awkwardly lowered himself nearby the prince as he sat up. "Do you not wish to sleep once more?"

"No Sir, might as well keep you company."

Oh goodness that smile. It made Keith want to run into the woods without even his gauntlets and perhaps never be seen again.

"There's no need to call me Sir," he said quietly. "I'm but a knight barely a year out of training."

"Of one who has slayed monsters and tricked mages?"

Keith could feel heat rise to his face. "I never tricked mages. Mages are prideful and easily swayable."

"Still of the most impressive. Lance spoke highly of your skills." The prince's fingers played with the edge of his bedroll. "Where do you hail from, Sir Keith? Your name is not familiar and your accent is of the northern kingdoms."

"Exactly that. I am from the far northern Taujeer, but came to these lands when I was but wee child. The nights and winters were bitter, and claimed my mother and father with the Fever. I all but grabbed this, burned the shack, and ran." Keith patted his side, where his blade was sheathed. It was a lie, of course, but not one so far from the truth. No one needed to know that he was from the magic ridden Galra.

Hunakai nodded. "I am sorry for your lost. But yet, I am amazed that you were able to climb the ranks to knight from but a peasant farmer."

Keith sat on the edge of his own bedroll, unafraid of falling asleep once more. "It was difficult, but I appreciate a good challenge."

They talked until the moon set, signaling the end of Keith's shift. Hunakai's eyes had begun to droop, and Keith kicked Shiro awake before settling onto his own bedroll, only closing his eyes when his heart stopped racing.

* * *

 

Pidge's keen hearing and suspicions had been the only warning before the arrows begun to fire from the trees.

Keith had dived from the horse with a clicking sound escaping from his teeth, drawing his sword, on his left Lance doing the same, drawing back his bow.

His chain armor could protect him from flint tipped bows, but judging from the thud of the arrow into the tree it was not flimsy rock, but rather iron. Which meant that whoever was firing was not fae, but rather roughs or thieves looking to rob weary travelers.

He was not a weary traveler. He was a knight of Nefara, trained under Shirogane himself.

He drew his dagger in his left and brought it to his lips, preparing to release air over the blade and-

Lance shot two arrows in quick succession, and two loud thumps sounded from a few units away.

"That's all of them." Pidge called from the dead rouge's sides, already looting the pockets for coins and weapons. Hunakai was grinning wildly, from either excitement or fear Keith could not tell.

"Oh Lord, they got maps to the White Cliffs." Pidge tucked the paper in their pocket and patted it lightly. "We will compare it to our maps, for rouge maps are more detailed than our own."

"Good. We would not wish to fall into quicksands," Hunakai replied lightly. "Very resourceful."

Keith patted the other rouge's side, finding a small bundle of berries and a dagger barely half a unit long, engraved with a single ruby on its helve.

* * *

 

"My prince, I do not wish for you to be limited to one weapon." Keith declared. "Please, take this."

He held the dagger towards his prince, with the hilt twisted towards him so the ruby was sparkling in the moonlight. Keith felt his face flush as he caught sight of his prince's face, dark eyes with those soft looking lips.

He wasn't expecting Hunakai to take the dagger, and press a small and barely there kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, my knight."

* * *

 

He did not like the idea of Prince Hunakai in a pub with commanders and thieves lurk, even if it was an Arusian pub. Even if Shiro with his blackened magic would be there, and Lance with his silver tongue that could talk his way out of any fight. Or Pidge, with their whiplike speech and formal rouge that knew every trick in the book.

Hunakai was a  _Prince,_ after all.

A Prince who had kissed him around the fire, long after everyone else had fallen to sleep.

A Prince with warm eyes that narrowed with suspicion when anything even felt out of place.

A Prince who did not look like a prince, more like a unbathed commander with his mud streaked clothing and thin jacket.

Of course, he could not argue with him. Hunakai-  _Hunk_ had insisted for he never sat in a Pub before. Pidge had agreed.

"Aye. Arus has no thieves about, and everyone likes a good drink."

So they had gone in, settling at a bench in the corner while Lance ordered a round of mead, laughing and gossiping and catching the eye of the Arusian Folk.

Keith had seen Arusian Folk up close before, but only by Nefara men so they stood out. Now, the only Nefara men in the pub he felt like they were out of place. The Arusians had small beady eyes and brightly colored hair, and most were rather short.

But they liked gossip, and they liked traveler's gossip.

A small group made their way over after a few minutes of Shirogane's laughter.

"'Lo, travelers. Where to you group hail from?" One asked, seating himself next to Pidge.

"Aye, we are from southern Taujeer. We had found a stream of metal and wish to sell it to merchants here." Pidge lied easily. "You supposed the best buyers in this settlement?"

"Aye would not here. We have no need for metalworks here, but on yonder there is a port." The second Arusian who sat next to Lance gestured with their head east. "But perhaps wait until the thieves of the crown jewels leave."

"Why is that? We heard they were nothing more than a nuisance." Hunk lightly commented, and Pidge gave him a small glare. But the Arusian's eyes lit up.

"They not are! For they have Fair Folk blood in them, a bit of magic to them that makes them impossible to approach."

"Fair Folk? Are those not the ones that wish to trick souls, not steal from them worthless jewels?" Shiro asked, straining to keep the magic from weaving into his voice.

"Aye, but they half of Earth as well. And Earth is where you want to trick, to get money or glory. In the Fae you only need blood and stolen words."

* * *

The Arusians had started to dance half a time unit ago. The paladins had separated, with Lance and Pidge playfully dancing with different Arusians and a bottle of mead, Shiro laughing with the bartender and Hunk and Keith, sitting alone.

It was nice, talking to Hunk in such a relaxed environment. Most of his conversations before were short and quick, with Hunk in gold and Keith in armor. The forest had the danger of the Fae and thieves that put them both on edge.

But here, with light from the fireplace lighting his dark skin in such a gorgeous color and their sides pressed together despite the room on the bench made Keith's heart soar. He had no idea it was possible to be this relaxed.

Maybe it was the mead talking, and the man he fancied at his side.

But Keith soon got tired of talking, and stood up and offered his hand, wavering slightly from the mead. "Dance with me, highness?"

Hunk pressed the hand to his lips and smiled. "Of course, my love."

The bard was playing an upbeat tune that Keith faintly recognized, and Hunk hummed to it as he spun him around the Pub, knocking into Lance and laughing.

Hunk's arms were strong, and his huge hands dwarfed Keith's thin ones, clutched them gently to his chest and then swooping them back. The dance was improved, but somehow they both found step within each other and danced wildly and drunkenly.

Hunk had to lean down to whisper in Keith's ear, and Keith couldn't help but press a small kiss to the juncture of his neck as he did, breathing in the smell of the forest on his Prince.

"My love, may you teach me the way of tricking mages and slaying dragons?" he whispered, sending an excited shiver down Keith's spine.

"It is just as easy as persuading enemies to give up their weapons and commanding battles." he breathed back, their feet slowing to almost a standstill. Hunk's hands moved to his waist as they swayed and it was perfect.

There was mead on their breath and love in their eyes, and if they woke up the next day in the same bedroll holding hands then God be damned.

A love like theirs was not to exist, but yet in this small foreign pub it could.


	3. Chapter 3

When Keith slept in his own bed in the barracks, he never slept well.

Maybe he was becoming spoiled, expecting feather beds and his Prince's arms every night. Maybe it was Shiro's snores, amplified by the scar on his nose and the magic in his breath, or Pidge's mumbles as they read maps of the kingdom and compared future routes to their own.

Or maybe when he was alone in his bunk, there was no one to distract him from thoughts of his homeland. How he was an orphan in the wrong kingdom, how his chest hurt when he binded it every morning, and how he could hear the stars scraping across the sky.

He turned over, burying his face in the woven blanket and inhaled the familiar smell of earth. It was enough to make him forget of his anxiety, the thoughts slowing to a trickle. The thin gold bracelet pressed into his wrist.

Lotor had not left the castle's lands yet, his women sleeping in the barracks only a few units away. Keith had told Hunk of his confrontation with Prince Lotor, but not of the missing chunk of hair hidden under his neck.

Prince Lotor may have been bluffing, and had no need for a hair of Prince Hunakai. But Keith was not going to take any more chances. He slept with his own men as an equal, and not a lover of the his Prince, until Lotor traveled onward.

Hunk did not protest, just clasped Keith's hands and gently placed a kiss to the thumbs. "It is for the best, love. We will not perish a few nights without bed warmers." He had teased, and Keith had smiled then, but now he craved the warmth of his prince.

He sat up on his bedroll, bare feet gently touching the frost bitten ground, and escaping into the yard of the castle.

Sword fighting, even against a straw filled dummy the seamstresses had stuffed with scraps and spoiled hay, was always a good way to calm down.

When the crisp wind hit his face, washing away the spoiled smell of the barracks, he looked to the stars, raising his left hand. Varga was barely rising, and the Big Dipper was barely at sixty degrees. Hunk had taught him to tell time using only the stars and his hands, memorizing constellations and the stories from Ancient Olkarion of them.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Shiro had magic in his voice that influenced newcomers to train harder but for Keith it was barely a suggestion. A year with his friend had made him immune to his magic words and he enjoyed laughing at the pranks Shiro pulled on the newcomers.

Making new recruits and knights in training peck on the ground like a chicken was always humorous to the older Knights, but for this reason Shiro could never speak to the Queens who he served.

He could answer questions, but could not ask them. He could tell them of news in the kingdom, but not his options. He did it for himself, to not influence the Queen's to his will like a shadow.

Keith thought it was rather noble. Shiro thought it was expected.

The Queens had asked him to expose them to his magic so they could grow immune to it, but Shiro decided, for it took months to ignore the magic in his words and years to become immune to it.

His magic was useful in battle. Shout an order against the incoming enemy and watch them drop to their knees for a moment before shaking it off and charging once more.

Small magic. Shiro could influence persons to give information but could not stop an army.

He claimed it wasn't worth the blackened arm.

* * *

A dagger was not fit for a Knight, but neither was a foreigner peasant to become the level of skill Keith was.

Keith could wield a sword skillfully, but a true warrior should never be limited to one weapon. Just as Lance was talented with both bow and sword, Keith was skilled with both sword and dagger.

His dagger was expertly made without a trace of magic infused into the metal, and made of iron to expertly harm Fae who have done wrong.

But yet the hilt of the blade was wrapped, for it had a mark of the Galra Kingdom. Not fit for a Knight of the prince of Nefara.

Keith had small magic, much like Shirogane and his magic breath. But instead of influencing folk, Keith had pure and physical magic.

He gripped the dagger in his left hand, bringing it to his lips and letting his breath run over the metal.

The dagger shot from his hands, catching a glimpse of moonlight, and shot between the sewn dummy's eyes, eerily identical to the scar on Shirogane's face.

Small magic.

He pressed the hand to his side, grimacing as the small bruises begun to blossom along his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is a bit small, but I hope it gives insights to the magic of the Fae. Stolen words will become a plot point later in the story.
> 
> Keith's gift was not given to him by the Fae, but he was born with it. He is from the Galra kingdom where it is common to have a small gift such as iron manipulation (Keith) but to a small extent, and with a huge price (bruising).
> 
> Prince Lotor has the gift of raising from the dead, but his price is the people around him disliking him. King Zarkon has a similar ability to Shirogane's, to influence people and the price is the shorting of his life. Zarkon was brought back to life by his wife Haggar, whose ability is the same as Lotor's. As a result, Zarkon cannot be killed until someone kills him with an certain iron dagger that Zarkon has been looking for.
> 
> I'm neck deep in this AU.


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I do not believe we have met!” Keith grinned, despite the rock that was swirling under his feet. Ten units away Lance and Pidge were bound, eyes wide and reflecting the light emitting from the old mage. “I am Keith, and of which has heard great stories of you!”   
  
The mage cocked his head, those beetle-like eyes blinking in surprise. “Thou heard of me, and yet come to my own?”   
  
“Not to come to own, but to talk! If you are the great Mage like the stories say, say you turn my words to lead like the Fae?” Keith crept one unit more into the cave, avoiding the bottles of glowing liquid and and crumpled sheets of parchment. “The Fae stole a word from me once, and I never retrieved it. I do not wish to return it, but wish to see the same trick.”   
  
“ _ Trick? _ Magic is nothing to the tricks the Fae perform. Can the Fae bring water forth with only hands, or change the path of the sun?” The Mage roared, eyes cast about two units to Keith’s left. He did not grin, but his eyes sparkled when he realized the Mage’s secret.

 

“I cannot say, but the Fae I have seen make livestock fly, and cure traces of the Fever with only a blink. I have only seen you put on a show of lights.” Keith cast his voice to one side using his mouth, then stepping quietly in the other direction. The Mage followed the sound of Keith’s voice, a sneer forming on his crooked face. 

 

“I read the text of the Ancients, and eat the hearts of men. But do you see the Fae reading the stars like vessels, or tricking Queens?”

 

“I have not, but you have never tricked a Queen. You forced the Queens of Nefara’s hands to give two prize knights, but you forgot one detail.” Keith growled, bringing the blade to his lips and it practically shoot from his hands, pinning the Mage to the wall by the skin of his cheek.

 

Keith drew his sword, the magic falling to the ground. The Mage’s hands rose once, but Keith slapped them down with the blunt of his blade and bringing the point to his neck.

 

“You relied too much on your ears.”   
  
The death was a swift and painless, like how Shiro taught him. A slash to the throat, and a breakage to the neck.

 

The rocks under his feet stopped swirling, the source of their movement as dead as they were. Keith retrieved the dagger from the man’s body, and rushed to Pidge’s side.

 

“Are you hurt, friends?” He asked, untying the gag and beginning to hack at the thick cords that bound the former rouge’s wrists. 

 

“No, he wished to keep us in health until the moon rose. He wished to have the healthiest of blood, and the finest of souls. I supposed that's why he wished to use knights rather than peasant folk.” Pidge begin untying the knots on their ankles, smirking. “Imagine how shocked he would have been had he used a rouge’s blood!”

 

When Lance’s gag was free, he was grinning. “Sir Keith, that trick with the dagger was so graceful! You did not tell us you were gifted magic the same as Shirogane.”

 

“It is no gift.” Keith raised his left hand, blackened with purple bruises beginning to blossom among his skin. “I was born with the power, but not gifted.”

 

Lance’s hands were freed not a moment later, and Pidge helped him to his feet. “This adds another title to your name, know? Maybe you will draw the eye of men and women at last.”

 

Keith let out a hearty laugh, eyeing the parchment that scattered the cave’s floors and the vials of liquid. “I have no desire of the eyes of men nor women. The kinship with one of not blood is enough.”

 

He turned to the body of the Mage once more, the magic already beginning to turn his bones to dust. “He could not steal words from our mouths, could he? A shame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he only wants that royal dick


	5. Poppies

“You are Keith, of which has tricked mages and slayed dragons. The thief of my heart and the air from my lungs.” Hunakai whispered, barely heard over the crackle of the fire. “But there is more to that, is there not?”   
  
“Not much, I’m ‘fraid. The life of a knight is not one for great personal gain.” Keith whispered back. “But do you wish to know the flowers that make me smile, or how many fallen stars I have seen in these skies?”   
  
“I wish to know as all you let. Which colors light your eyes and which flowers draw your gaze?”

 

“The sunflowers of northern Balmera are of my eyes, my love.” Keith whispered, arms shifting in his Prince’s hold. “For they remind me of you, tall and strong and always facing the sun.” 

 

His prince let out a huff of laughter, and Keith felt his heart soar. “Oh my knight, you wound me with your soft words. How has one such flattery to woo a prince?”

 

“You are but the only prince I have captured with my words, do not be afraid. And you have only captured me with your kindness.” Keith pressed a small kiss to Hunakai’s forehead, a soft noise escaping his throat. 

 

He tried to not think of the chopped hair under his neck, or Prince Lotor’s sharp yellow eyes.

 

*

 

Keith’s days off were few in number and lengthened in days, and Hunakai was a prince who could leave the castle at any time he wished, so long it was not under the eyes of his mothers. The Queens of Nefara wished to not let their son be in danger, despite the insistence of being familiar with the lands. 

 

So on days where Keith did not see the walls of the castle, he met Hunakai in commoner clothing just on the outskirts of the town that surrounded the castle. A basket of bread in hand, and a kiss to the cheek, they’ll walk down the valley together.

 

Nefara was a beautiful kingdom, with valleys of stone and moss that were worthy of being preserved in a tapestry or even a painting, if one wishes.

 

“They say that the Fair Folk come here just to see the valley, and stay for the kind hearts of the people, know?” Keith finally said after several time units of walking. “In Taujeer they speak of great beauty here. But I do not see it when I am with you, my love.”

 

“Ah! You make my heart stutter, Keith!” Hunakai-  _ Hunk-  _ gasped and clutched his heart. “Have you no shame?”   
  
“Only for you, Hunk, do my words come indicted. You could convince even the most stone of heart to be kind. And yet I am in awe that you chose me to steal a kiss from.”

 

“You stole mine, and I am honored that such a gorgeous man chose to be my first kiss.” Hunk smiled. “Of you which slayed dragons and tricked mages, and stole my heart.”

 

Hunk bent to the ground, pausing their trek. “My Keith, close your eyes for a moment, love.”

 

Keith did as he said, and felt warm hands push him gently to the ground. Then those thick fingers push his hair back behind his ears, something tickling his scalp and smelled of nectar…

 

“Poppies.” Keith opened his eyes, and gently pressed a hand to his hair to feel the flowers Hunk wove into his hair. “You like poppies?”

 

“They are small and feisty, like you.” Hunk teased, pressing a kiss to the tip of Keith’s nose. “And smell just as sweet.”   
  
Keith let out a laugh, the stems of the poppies itching his scalp. “You say I stole your heart, but it seems you have stolen mine as well. Have we traded hearts?”   
  
“Perhaps we have, for I cannot stand to stay away from you.” Hunk nuzzled a small kiss into Keith’s neck, sighing. “I wish I could marry you, Keith.”   
  
Keith froze. Hunk wished to marry  _ him. _ A inferior knight who was once a commoner of another kingdom. Hunk seemed to have realized what he said, and grasped Keith’s hands.

 

“I wish to marry you, love. To have all the kingdoms know of the man I have chosen, and how brave he is.”   
  
“I wish to marry you as well, for the kingdoms must know of your kindness and our love.” Keith leaned into Hunk’s side, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of poppies the field was covered in. “But you must unite Nefara and Balmera with the bonds of marriage, for the greater good.”

“But let me give you a promise, Keith,” Hunk grasped Keith’s hands lightly, rubbing his thumb over the lighter skin. “Nothing, not even the bonds of marriage will keep us apart.”

 

“The risk is high, my love. If we ever get caught, it would result in your-”

 

Hunk tightened his arms, letting out a soft noise. “I know. I know, love. But I will gladly take the risk.”

 

* * *

 

King Zarkon of the Galra kingdom had been ruling for the past hundred years, his face not aging and his iron fisted rule was unwavering.

 

There were rumors about him. That he was immortal, and drunk the blood of his own people to live. That his Queen rose him from the dead. That his son was banished for speaking out of turn in a private meeting.

 

Most of them were true. But not of the one of immortality.

 

Keith’s mother had crafted a dagger and a story, one designed to kill folk raised from the dead. One designed to kill with pure iron and no hint of Fae magic.

 

A dagger of pure earth, that can only be wielded properly with bravery and force.

 

One that rested in Keith’s hands, nearly ten years after the crafter's death. One that responded to only Keith’s will.

 

When he found of his fate he fled like a cowardly dog. Fled to a kingdom far away from his home and changed his fate.

 

But fate had an interesting way of finding him, twisting through the walls he had crafted. For he had giving his own lock of hair to Zarkon’s heir.

 

The Galra were planning something big, and hearing gossip from Arus that Lotor had visited many kingdoms, persuading them to spend the night in their own raised Keith’s suspicions. 

 

He feared that a lock of hair from all the royal bloods could create something horrible. Something that will affect all of the kingdoms regardless of their relations to the Galra.

 

Something that will preserve Zarkon’s reign forever.

 

Keith palmed the dagger, bruises from the night before already fading.

 


	6. a dragon sleeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got some such nice comments that i decided to update aaaa

To slay a dragon was no trouble if you were smart, aware of your every movement, and foolish.

 

Iverson had demanded a dragon pelt to prove Keith’s worth, and dressed in the lightest of armor and the rust of swords, he went.

  
He knew it was but a death sentence. A foreigner he was in the kingdom of Zemlya , for he had slipped when asked where he hailed.

 

Zemlya hated magic, and Keith was of Galra.

 

So they sent him to the dragons.

 

Keith did not think it was unfair.

 

The dragon had captured a feisty Princess, rumored to have a sour mouth and attitude, should surely have survived as long as she can.

 

It pained Keith to have her only hope ride on a foreigner with a sword of rust.

 

In its sheath his knife of iron grew heavier, and it tugged on his heartstrings of the memory just so recently burned into his mind forever. He tightened his grip on the borrowed sword, screwing his eyes shut as his horse traveled onward.

 

Bring back the dragon’s pelt, or burn to a crisp.

 

*   
From where he hid, the dragon was in full view.

 

It was gorgeously red, its thin body glinting in the harsh sunlight like the scales were plated with gold. Two legs clawed the ground as it stretched much like a cat, its eyes closing in pleasure before it straightened out once more. It was as long as the Kemlya castle, and as thick as the trees of Altea.

 

It pained his heart to know that it will slay him or he will slay it.

 

The dragon, fully woke from its nap, arched its back and let a blast of fire into the air, making Keith jump back. He could feel the heat of the plume over fifty units away, flinching as the smell of something metallic hit his nose.

 

The dragon shook, spreading its wings. Keith gasped as the wings caught the sun and exploded into color.

 

“It's a gorgeous beast, no?” A small voice whispered from Keith’s left, making him jump nearly a unit into the air, hand on his sword.

 

“Peace, for I mean no harm.” A small and ruffled looking person sat peacefully on the leaf waste, hair tangled and and dirt smeared across their face. “I wish to stop you from killing yourself for a straw stuffed doll.”   
  
“Straw stuffed?” Keith asked, noticing the way the rags hung on their person and the common rucksack on their back. A rouge or possibly a thief, maybe even a peasant who could afford a decent cloth.

 

The stranger nodded. “The princess is but a decoy. This is how Kemyla punishes outsiders and makes them prove their worth. Do you wish to prove you trust to folk who will only shun you for being an outsider?”   
  
“I am not worthy of being trust, for I am a stranger in a strange land.” Keith remarked. “But tricking foolish travelers into rescuing a straw stuffed doll is a shameful abuse of bravery.”   
  
The rouge grinned. “I am Pidge, and although I hail from here I do not agree with the king’s methods. Do you wish to escape with me to the far southern kingdoms?”   
  


Keith looked to the dragon, and the brilliant colors that gleamed in its scales. “After I slay a dragon to prove our worth, and maybe a great bit of coin.”   
  
“Foolish you are, but very well. I will be here to report your slay if you perish.” The rouge said cheerfully, standing and bringing the pack to their front. They untied the complicated looking knots with ease, and brought forth a sharpening rock. “May we sharpen that sword of yours first, for the dragon has scales of thick rock.”

 

Keith nodded. “Thank you, Pidge. Your knowledge will save a life today.”

 

Pidge just shot another cheeky grin. “I do not wish for your fate to end so soon, for I saw the brokenness we share.  To slay a dragon was no trouble if you were smart, aware of your every movement, and foolish. You’re aware of thice of which.”

 

*

 

Pidge had maps of every kingdom, marked in strange symbols and connecting lines with the forest trails marked with green. They had no weapon aside from a small slingshot and three sharpened stones, and Keith did not think less of the rouge because of it. 

 

“How many years are you, Pidge?” Keith finally asked. 

 

“Nine. And you?”   
  


“Nearly eleven.”

 

“Nearly a man, if you born in the winter.” Pidge nodded. “A bit tall to be eleven, but that’s good. Ladies fancy a tall man.”

 

Pidge took a bit of charcoal from their shared fire, turned around the map of Kemlya, and begun to draw. 

 

“The dragon has no scales on its eyes, underside of mouth, and its toes.” They said as the sketched messily with the burnt stick.  “You have two weapons. A sword and iron dagger. How skilled are you in throwing a dagger and hitting the target?”   
  
“Skilled well, for I am a bit of magic in my blood. What do you wish for me to hit?” Keith brought the dagger out, the dull metal gleaming in the firelight. 

 

“Ay, I have no preference. How of that tree over yonder?” Pidge gestured with their shoulders to Keith’s left. They rubbed the messy dragon out with the heel of their hand and set it aside. 

 

Keith brought the dagger to his lips, closing his eyes. He had only done it once before, with the supervision of his mother nearly a year ago. He let his breath run over the blade, his eyes closing, only thinking of the center of the tree-

 

The blade shot from his hands like a bird in flight, sinking into the tree with a dull thunk. Pidge’s jaw dropped. At the same time, Keith winced as his palm was hit with the same force, feeling as if the knife had struck him with the hilt.

 

“Aye, magic. It never makes a lick of sense to me, ‘fraid. But to see that you are not defenceless gives me hope for you.” Pidge finally spoke. “Can you aim the dagger to the dragon’s eye?”   
  
Keith made a fist with the same hand, and the dagger flew back to his hand, it's cold hilt soothing against the fresh bruises.”I can. Is this to blind the dragon and to struck a sword into its maw?”   
  
“Aye. Of if you get the blade deep enough, it will strike the brain and kill it instantly. You may not even need the sword if you bury the dagger in the beast’s brain.” 

 

*

 

The dragon slept at night, the same as the two humans who shivered by the small fire. Although Pidge slept soundlessly with their head under their arm, Keith could not close his eyes.

 

The stars were no different in Kemlya, but the shapes in the stars meant nothing to him. So instead he closed his eyes, the familiar scrape of the stars across the sky comforting to his ears.

 

And across the field the dragon slept, knowing of the humans that wished to slay it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitch


End file.
